Rude
by HarmonyDove13
Summary: What happens when Poppy's boyfriend of three years is denied King Peppy's blessing to marry her? Inspired by the song Rude by Magic! Rated T for future chapters. Of course, I don't own Trolls or the song this was inspired by. Enjoy! ;)
1. No Blessing?

**Okay, my first chapter story on here! This was originally supposed to be short, and it was on a doc I had of short stories, but it started on page 12 and ended (I haven't even finished it) on page 30, so clearly, it's not as short as I thought.**

 **If you've read my bio on my profile, then you know that I had this one big cringy story as my first fanfic ever, one that will not be published but had a couple good ideas in it. This one was kinda sorta based off of that one, so here's some background info:**

 **Cloud Guy randomly happens to have this collection of magic needles, like the spindle in** ** _Sleeping Beauty_** **. When he pricks Poppy (or anyone) with one, she falls into a deep sleep and can only be woken by true love's kiss. In the meantime, her soul can visit with all the Trolls already dead, in heaven. However, it's only happened to her once before, and she was woken up by Branch.**

 **I know you probably just want to get to the story, but thank you for all the support on my other two stories! If you liked Wisteria and Poppy pining for Branch, I have more where that came from. ;) And as for the guest reviewer who called herself "Harmony's Sister," don't mind her. She actually is my little sister. :) (I don't know if you guys read the reviews, though.)**

 **Anyhow, enjoy the story! Constructive criticism is great, but no flames! Thanks!**

* * *

"Poppy, I have something to tell you."

Poppy frowned a little. She didn't like the way his tone got all serious or the way his voice matched it. Her boyfriend rarely acted like this, and when he did, it was usually because of something she'd rather not know. "Oh . . . what is it?"

"You know how we were kind of . . . fooling around with the idea of getting married? Well, yesterday . . ." He paused.

Poppy grinned. _Ohhh._ He was trying to freak her out before giving her the good news. He could be lots of fun like that. She wanted to kiss him on the nose, but she supposed she could wait until after he'd broken the news to her.

"Yesterday I asked your dad for his blessing, and, well . . ." He stopped walking and turned to look at her, his eyes the perfect picture of dead seriousness.

Poppy let her hands fall from his arm as she looked him in those serious eyes, her own magenta orbs sparkling with glee. "And. .?" she asked excitedly.

For a moment, her boyfriend gave her a funny look, then said, "Um, he said . . . he said . . . _no_."

Poppy's face fell, searching his face for any hint of playful deceit, any hint of dishonesty in the slightest. "What?"

"I'm so sorry. I honestly thought he'd say yes."

"He really said no?" she asked, shocked and sad.

"Yeah. I mean, I know I'm not exactly his favorite Troll, but I never thought he'd really say no to that."

His girlfriend gave him a suspicious look. "You're not just teasing me?"

He shook his head. "I wish I were."

Poppy cast her gaze to the ground. Why had her father done this? He _knew_ she was in love. He'd always been so welcoming to her boyfriends in the past . . . why did he have to be cruel to this one, the only one she wanted to marry?

He lifted her chin, gazing into her eyes sweetly. "I bet we can get through this. I'll try to think of solutions, okay, and you talk to your dad for me."

She shrugged, mustering a smile and a spark of hope. "Maybe it was a misunderstanding?"

"Maybe. Listen, Poppy, I need to get some sleep. Will you talk to your dad?"

"Of course. See you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Poppy leaned over and kissed her boyfriend goodnight, then turned around to go see her dad.

And Cliff, the red Troll with pastel-yellow hair, Poppy's boyfriend, turned to go back to his pod for sleep.

* * *

"Dad . . . I heard you denied Cliff your blessing to marry me."

Silence.

"Well, is it true?"

"Poppy . . ." the elderly Troll said with a sigh, turning to face his daughter. "You know I love you . . ."

"You used to be so nice to my boyfriends! Why not Cliff? Why not the one Troll who really makes me happy?"

"My princess," he said, slowly approaching her, using the nickname he'd always used for her. "I _do_ want you to be happy. I just don't think that Cliff can do that for you."

"Oh, sure, then who _do_ you think will make me happy? Because right now, the only name I'm thinking of is Cliff's."

"Branch."

Poppy stared at him in stunned silence.

"Branch can make you happy."

Slowly anger took form in the young queen's eyes. "Dad, we talked about this," she said, her voice quiet but filled with fury. "I'm over him. I've been over him for three years now, and I suggest you get over him, too. Because now I love Cliff, and Branch is _never_ coming back."

"He's your true love, Poppy," pressed the former king. "He even woke you up with true love's kiss."

"Yeah, years ago! When I loved him! Listen, Dad"—she pinched the bridge of her nose—"you don't understand. The love we felt for each other then was true, but now it's fizzled out. I couldn't get it back if I tried, which I'm not going to, because now the love I feel for Cliff is true. If I fell under that spell again, he'd be the one to wake me up, not Branch." She looked up at her father. "So please, Dad, open your heart to him. He doesn't deserve the way you're acting toward him. Let us get married, please." Poppy turned away from her father bitterly. "Or we'll find a way to be together, lawful or not."

Peppy watched his daughter as she left his pod, not at all regretting his decisions—and not missing the way Poppy had pinched the bridge of her nose, something she'd never done until she'd started dating Branch.

* * *

Poppy awoke the next morning, with a stretch and a yawn, to see her father hovering over her like a madman.

"AAAHH!" she screamed, then placed a hand to her heart to calm it. "Dad, _what_ are you _doing_?!"

"You're so sure Cliff will wake you up?" He lifted his hand, which was holding a shiny, sparkly silver needle. "We'll see about that."

Before she even knew what was going on, she was sinking into her pillow again, falling into a deep sleep.


	2. The Curse

**Chapter 2! Please read and review! (No flames.) Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Branch's life was perfect.

Okay, that was an overstatement. It wasn't perfect. He had no social life, no colors, and no sense of humor or relaxation. But he had everything he needed.

He had a highly camouflaged, heavily fortified survival bunker. He had emergency rations and supplies in case anything went wrong in the village—which, according to him, it would. He even had defenses positioned all around the village to keep out predators—and annoying distractions, like Cloud Guy.

And day after day, month after month, year after year, he told himself it was enough.

Somewhere inside, though, he knew it wasn't. _After all, if you're satisfied, why are you still gray?_

He pushed that question away whenever it popped up, refusing to let the many answers he had flood out of their locked cage in the back of his mind. Sometimes one or two or a few more would escape anyway, and that was when he'd write a poem to make them go away.

 _Because you used to be happy._ That was one of the answers that he'd locked away.

 _Because you're cut off from society._ Another forbidden answer, this one conjuring up vague images and memories of having friends for a while. The answers with images attached were especially dangerous.

 _Because you don't live like a normal Troll._ So long as he kept himself from thinking about what it meant to be a "normal Troll," there were no memories, no flashes of color and sound that caused more pain than something of those substances should.

 _Because you're paranoid_. True enough, but only because he was worried something would happen to the village. He tried not to get into that one too much, tried to keep everything hidden away, because of all the nicknames the Trolls had once called him that had to do with that one word: _paranoid_.

 _Because you lost Poppy._ Almost the most painful answer, the one that came with the most dangerous memories, all flooding back in one rush of light and color and sound. Poppy laughing at him, Poppy laughing with him, Poppy teasing him, Poppy good-naturedly arguing with him, Poppy gazing into his eyes with her beautiful magenta ones, Poppy kissing him on a regular basis every night when they parted, Poppy kissing him passionately when they had a heated fight or when they got emotional, Poppy riding on his shoulders and playing with his hair, Poppy rambling on and on about him being king someday while he cowered in fear of the unknown, Poppy dragging him into all of her crazy plans, Poppy singing at the top of her lungs to embarrass him in front of a restaurant full of Trolls during a date, Poppy tackling him for a hug every time she saw him, Poppy covering her whole ceiling in mistletoe when the holidays came around just to ensure an abundance of kisses, Poppy smiling at him . . . and then came the next memories, these ones the sad kind. Poppy yelling at him, Poppy storming away from him, Poppy crying and not letting him help her, Poppy kicking him, Poppy ignoring him, Poppy's tears muddling her speech as she hugged him goodbye for the very last time . . .

 _Because Poppy loves Cliff._ This was the most painful answer he had. It conjured the same sad memories from his other tear-jerking answer, but this one also summoned up new images: Poppy and Cliff on a date, Poppy rambling about Cliff being king, Poppy pulling Cliff into every new, crazy plan she came up with, Poppy riding Cliff's shoulders and playing with Cliff's hair, Poppy tackling Cliff like she hadn't seen him in months whenever she saw him, Poppy flashing Cliff that beautiful smile of hers, Poppy kissing Cliff as passionately as she could . . .

Branch's vision blurred as these two answers came back to him, along with all the memories they contained. A tear trickled down his face and he angrily swiped it away. Three years. Three years, and he still hadn't gotten over her. How pathetic was that? Her relationship with Cliff proved that she had gotten over him. Soon enough, they'd be married, and his inability to move on would make him nothing more than a fan of the queen, his crush on her a simple celebrity crush. Nobody could have a _real_ crush on a married woman, anyway, and if they did it spelled trouble.

Branch wasn't one for that type of trouble—or any type of trouble, really.

With a deep breath, he locked all those thoughts away again. He forced his emotions back and wiped a remaining tear off his cold, expressionless face. Time to stock up on the firewood supply.

It was just like old times, he thought for the millionth time as he approached the village in his search for usable firewood. Every day, he used to come out here to watch Poppy and Creek trade affectionate gestures, and to insult them for it—definitely worth seeing the way Poppy's face flushed in annoyance and embarrassment. He'd even made up a perfect ship name for them— _Creepy_ —which made him feel a lot better about himself when he was down in the dumps.

But that was back when he'd had the security of knowing for sure that Poppy knew nothing about his crush on her. Now, after having dated her for two and a half years, he had none of that security. Now he could no longer come up and insult Poppy and Cliff; now he could only watch from the shadows, where they wouldn't care even if they did notice him.

Today, however, the village seemed quieter. He lifted his gaze from the ground and frowned. Usually Poppy was here, talking with her friends and boyfriend by now. They all had worried expressions on their faces, too, so he crept closer to listen in.

"Nobody's seen her yet today?" Cliff was saying, frowning in a way that made him look more displeased than concerned.

DJ Suki shook her head. "She didn't come to our usual jam session this morning!"

Exchanging a worried glance with the DJ, Smidge said, "She wasn't attending my exercise class earlier, either."

"Oh, no, did something happen to her?" asked Biggie fearfully, holding Mr. Dinkles closer.

"I hope not—" started Satin.

"—but she didn't come to her dress fittings today, either," finished Chenille, looking worriedly at her twin.

Fuzzbert grunted something that was unintelligible to Branch.

"Exactly!" Guy Diamond agreed. "Fuzzbert's right, y'all. Cliff, have _you_ asked her dad where she is yet today?"

Cliff faltered, shaking his head. "No, I . . . it didn't occur to me."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" said Guy Diamond.

"TO KING PEPPY!" Cooper laughed.

Branch left his firewood there and followed them, against his better judgment. He had to. What if something bad really had happened to Poppy?

But when they all got to the former king's pod, they went inside. Branch could not go inside without attracting attention, so he waited outside until they emerged.

And when they did, Cliff was holding an unconscious pink body in his arms.

Branch panicked and rushed off to find all the antidotes and medicines to poisons and illnesses that could make a Troll unconscious. He didn't even listen to their conversation before he rushed off, because who knew how much time she had left?  
His work was only disrupted when there was a knock on Branch's bunker. He heaved a sigh, riding the elevator up and preparing to yell at someone to go away.

When he opened the door, though, the Troll waiting was Peppy, looking worried.

Branch couldn't start yelling at this Troll—the Troll who'd loved him like a father when it seemed as though they'd one day be in-laws—so he climbed up. "King Peppy? What are you doing here?"

He looked around as though to make sure no one was listening, but they were alone in the woods. No one was going to be listening. "Branch, my boy, I have to tell you something. I know you followed them back to my pod, didn't you?"

Branch blushed a little and nodded. "Um, yeah."

"Good. Listen, Poppy's not sick. I pricked her with one of those sleeping needles this morning."

"What?! Why?! King Peppy, those things could be dangerous! She was fine last time, but what'll it do to her this—?!"

"Because a couple days ago, Cliff asked me for my blessing to marry Poppy!" Peppy said loudly, cutting Branch off.

Branch felt a pang of hurt in his heart. He'd always known it would happen someday. He shouldn't have been so upset, but he was and he couldn't deny it. "And—and you're telling me this why?" he asked when he recovered enough to speak.

"I told him no, Branch."

Branch took a deep breath, his chest inflating with air that shouldn't have flowed a little easier at these words. "Why?"

"That's what Poppy asked me when he told her what happened. She wasn't very happy, but . . . I told her the truth. The truth is that I think she can never reach the same level of happiness with Cliff that she reached with you. I told her that I thought you'd be a better match, and she said that if she was pricked again, Cliff would wake her up this time. So I set out to prove her wrong." He cocked his head and gave Branch an amused smile. "I'm going to have the rest of the male Trolls in line for show, but who they're really all waiting for is you. Oh—and I'm going to put you in line right after Cliff, for dramatic flair."

Branch stared at him, trying to make sense of this. Then he said, "You know, I dated Poppy for two and a half years, and I never noticed where she got her enthusiasm from, but I see it now."

"So you'll do it?"

He sighed. He couldn't believe he was being roped into this by Poppy's father. "Okay. Yes, I'll do it. But if Cliff wakes her up—or even someone else—don't say I didn't warn you."

"Thank you, my boy!" Peppy said, and gave Branch a hug before leading him back to the center of Troll Village. When they arrived, he called Cliff over.

The red Troll narrowed his eyes at Branch, then looked to Peppy. "Yes, sir?"

"Branch helped me realize something. Poppy's not sick, she's been cursed," the former king said, gesturing to Branch, who rolled his eyes at Poppy's new boyfriend. They'd never been formally introduced, but he already knew this Troll didn't like him—which was perfectly fine, because the feeling was mutual.

"Cursed?" Cliff asked. "How?"

"With an enchanted needle. It's a sleeping spell, and you can only be woken by true love's kiss. You know the fairytale _Sleeping_ _Beauty_?"

"Who doesn't?" Cliff scoffed.

"This is like that. You want to marry Poppy so bad? Go rally all the male Trolls to try and kiss her as her true love. Then get in line."

Cliff shot Branch a wary look. "Will he be trying, too?"

"Don't you get it? _Everyone_ has to try. Besides, he helped me figure out what was wrong with Poppy. I think he deserves a shot."

Even though that wasn't what had happened, Branch shot Cliff a smug look in response, not able to resist. Maybe it was bad, but he loved how insecure Poppy's boyfriend seemed about him trying, too.

"Alright," Cliff agreed reluctantly, then when he left to address the Trolls, the former king looked to Branch.

"When they start lining up, run over and grab Cliff, then pull him into the middle of the line. Have him go ahead of you and say he's Poppy's boyfriend, so he should be ahead of you. But we all know you'll be the one to wake her up." Peppy was grinning.

Branch nodded. "Okay." But he wasn't entirely convinced. The former king had said that Poppy thought Cliff would wake her up this time? His ex-girlfriend had a point.

It was the first time he'd ever referred to her as "ex-girlfriend". He should get used to it.

Before he knew it, Cliff was finished. Male Trolls rushed into line, and Branch grabbed Cliff's arm before they ended up in the back. "Hey—what are you—"

"You don't want to be in the back, do you?" Branch responded. He took a place in the middle of the line behind Cliff. "You should go first."

"Yeah, I should," he responded selfishly. To be fair, _maybe_ that wasn't exactly how he said it, but to Branch, the sentence was radiating selfishness.

Branch rolled his eyes one more time, and then just waited in silence. Nobody so far was waking her up, but as Peppy had said, they were just for "dramatic flair" and "show." The real competition was between him and Cliff.

Finally, the line advanced and it was Cliff's turn. Branch tuned back in to the world around him, holding his breath as the red Troll approached the queen. He drew closer—bent down—shadowed her face with his—leaned in—lifted a hand—caressed her face—and then, finally, pressed their lips together.

For a long, long second Branch waited, until Cliff pulled back and watched the young queen in anticipation . . .

She didn't so much as stir.

His face fell when he realized she wouldn't; Branch gave a huge sigh of relief. But now he'd have to wait through Cliff's denial stage.

Sure enough, Poppy's so-called boyfriend frowned and shook his head. "No, that can't be right," Branch heard him murmur, before kissing her again, a much shorter kiss this time.

Still no reaction.

Another kiss; another silence. Again and again until it became obvious that Cliff wasn't ever going to wake her up.

"Okay, you're done," Branch said with a raised eyebrow in Cliff's direction.

"But I—she didn't—I couldn't—yet—" sputtered Cliff in protest.

"You tried; you failed; you're done," Branch said, walking up to him. "My turn."

"I—" started Cliff, but he couldn't finish his sentence. He reluctantly got up and walked off to the side, but still stood and watched instead of completely rejoining the crowd.

Branch bent down over Poppy's hammock. He took in her peaceful, sleeping face: her glitter freckles, shining brightly in the sun; her eyes gently closed; her bangs framing her face in the most angelic way possible; her arms resting softly on her torso; and her lips, a little bruised from some of the Trolls' more passionate kisses, but still as pink and soft as he remembered them.

So he took a deep breath, brushed back her bangs just to feel her silky hair, and tenderly connected their lips for what very well may have been the last time.

Then he pulled back and sat up, watching her closely for a reaction. If this didn't wake her up, then it wasn't him _or_ Cliff and they'd all had it horribly wrong.

But suddenly, Poppy bolted upright, throwing her arms around his neck in an instant. "Oh, hey, Cliff—!" She stopped short and looked him up and down, then blushed bright red. Without moving her arms from his neck or her gaze from his eyes, she clenched her teeth and said under her breath, "Branch, where is my father right now? I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of even looking at him."

"Um . . ." With the angry, threatening look on her face right now, he was kind of terrified she was going to punch him in the face. "Behind me in the crowd."

"And where's Cliff?"

"He's off to the side, to your left and kind of behind you."

Poppy's angry look dissipated and she gave a single nod, then let her arms drop to her sides. "Well, um . . . _thank_ _you . . ._ for waking me up. Nice to see you again, Branch." With that, she stood up, dusted off her skirt, and stiffly walked right past Cliff without looking at him. She walked until she was out of anybody's sight, but everyone watched her leave.

Branch was still kneeling at the empty hammock when she left, cursing himself for believing for even half a second that she'd take him back. So he'd woken her up. So what? Didn't mean she didn't still love Cliff. Didn't mean that she was going to play by the rules in general. Didn't mean she wasn't over him, no matter how much he pined for her.

And some silly notion of true love?

It changed nothing.


	3. The Breakup

**Chapter 3! Again, read and review, please, and no flames. Thanks! :)**

* * *

Poppy ran straight home to her pod.

She was so disoriented, she didn't even feel like stress-booking, which always helped her when she was stressed. Her whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours.

Cliff was not her true love, as it turned out, so what were the feelings she still had for him? A lie? Had it never really been love, and she'd misinterpreted her own feelings? Or maybe it'd been sympathy because she'd subconsciously known he loved her and they couldn't truly be together?

That was only one of many problems. Another was that Branch _was_ her true love. Branch, whom she'd broken up with three years ago. She'd thought she was over him, but was she really? His name sparked so many emotions within her— _love, hate, indifference, tension, peace, admiration, disdain, confidence, uncertainty_ —that she had no idea what to think. There were so many memories attached to that one name. There was Gray Branch, there was Blue Branch, there was Gray Branch _again_.

She stopped short. She'd never really noticed that before. Well, of course she'd seen him, but she'd never cared to approach him or talk to him, so it'd never sunk in: he was _gray_ again.

He'd really been sad enough losing her to lose his color, too?

And he hadn't ever gotten it back?

Could that mean . . . did he still love her?

Poppy quashed the ridiculous idea—and the flicker of hope that came with it. No. Of course not. It had been three years. It took something big to make a gray Troll happy again, especially if they'd been gray for a while, and it wasn't her problem if nothing big had happened for him lately.

Before she could think of all the reasons why it _was_ her problem, she moved on to the next problem: her father. He'd been right, and now she was going to suffer from more than just wounded pride. She'd never be able to marry Cliff, and she wasn't even sure if she wanted to anymore. How could she know whether to break up with him if she didn't want to? Everything had been more than black-and-white when she and Creek had been split up, and even if she'd been sad, it'd been clear what she had to do with Branch, too. Now . . . she was pretty sure she still loved Cliff, and it wasn't like he'd done anything wrong. But the magic said that Branch was her true love . . .

The young queen groaned and curled up, burying her face in her knees. This was the hardest decision she'd ever made in her life. Even her queenly responsibilities didn't compare.

Finally, she decided she'd find Cliff and talk it out with him. He was good at thinking of good solutions, so surely he could come up with something. She took a deep breath and set out to find him.

She was just about to ask if anyone had seen him when she heard his voice. She couldn't tell what he was saying, but he sounded angry. She crept closer and hid behind a tree to listen.

"You had no right to just come up there and take her! Now everyone thinks I'm a fraud!" Cliff's voice yelled.

"Yeah, true. But you heard her dad—he wanted everyone to try, because nobody knows who could wake her up. It's not like I had a choice." This was a new voice, yet so familiar: Branch's. Poppy hated the way her heart traitorously fluttered at the sound.

"Just keep pretending that! Her dad always liked you better than me, and you know it! I wouldn't be surprised if this whole thing was a scam to kick me out of your lives!"

"I know you hate me, but I don't do 'scam.' I even told King Peppy that I probably _wouldn't_ be able to wake her up." Branch's voice was much calmer than Cliff's. It was irritated beyond compare, yes, but he was speaking at a reasonable pace and volume, unlike her boyfriend.

"You liar! I cannot believe you'd try to steal her back like that! You knew I was happy!" screamed Cliff. His voice was downright _vengeful_ now.

Poppy was stricken, replaying his words in her mind. " _You knew I was happy!"_ Him? What about her? Why not "she" or "we"? And that tone—that angry, vengeful tone, as though he'd go to any length to get what he wanted.

 _Just like Creek._

"Think what you want about me, okay? But I'm not a liar and I'm not trying to 'steal her back.' She doesn't even like me anyway, so just run back to your loyal Poppy and leave me alone."

Cliff scoffed angrily. "What, too afraid to fight?" he sneered.

"No, quite the opposite. I'd rather not fight you for _your_ sake." A little pause, then he simpered, "Surely Poppy told you how strong her _Branchy_ is?"

Poppy heard the familiar smirk in his words, reminding her of the days when she used to call him that, "her Branchy." It was only ever used to embarrass or annoy him, but it had been so much fun. She found herself longing for those days—

"No, she didn't, I'm sure because you _aren't_ ," Cliff seethed. "You liar, you asked for it!"

Poppy snapped out of her trance and rushed out from behind the tree before a fistfight broke out. Branch was right—he could seriously hurt Cliff, which she couldn't let happen (as his queen or his girlfriend, she wasn't sure). And she knew Cliff wasn't exactly a bodybuilder, but he'd sounded so incredibly angry that she wasn't sure what he'd be capable of.

"Wait! Stop!" she cried as she rushed into their view. The young queen watched Branch casually step out of the way of Cliff's furious lunge for him and Cliff slam into the ground before both Trolls looked to her, dumbstruck.

"Oh, hi, beautiful," Cliff said, looking up at her with a sheepish grin. Poppy noticed Branch rolling his eyes at the term of endearment.

For the first time in three years, she found herself disgusted by the name, too. She briefly wondered what had happened to her since the days when she walked alongside Branch, watching other couples and sticking their tongues out in playful disgust at every term of endearment they heard.

But no. Poppy forced herself to focus on the scene in front of her. "You guys! I can't believe you were actually going to attack each other!"

Branch shook his head and folded his arms. "I don't know how much you heard, _beautiful_ , but I tried to stay out of it."

Before she knew what she was doing, she'd made one of those same playful disgusted faces from their past at him. "I heard enough," she said, acting nonchalant about the slip-up. "And . . . thank you for trying."

Then she turned her attention to Cliff. "Cliff! Why would you try to physically harm Branch?! I know there's some really confusing love-triangle-y stuff going on here, but we're Trolls! We don't purposely hurt each other!"

"Beautiful, I have reason to believe he was working with your father to tear us apart. I couldn't let that happen," Cliff tried.

Poppy had never noticed how Creek-like it was, the way he used the name "beautiful" for her.

"Even protection shouldn't go that far. And Branch wasn't lying; he could've really injured you." She ignored the pleasure she got from seeing Branch nod smugly at Cliff. "Cliff, I'm very disappointed in you. I came to talk this problem out with you, but clearly, you can't handle emotional strain of any kind, nor can you honor Troll values. Which would make you a horrible husband and father someday. I'm sorry, but we need to break up. _Right now._ " Shocked at her own daring and lack of sadness, she harshly pointed away.

"Wait, but beautiful—" he started.

"Goodbye, Cliff," she said in a tone that made it clear she would not be listening to his pleas.

Surprise and sadness in his eyes, he got to his feet and left the clearing they were standing in.

Poppy watched him leave, then her heart sped up with anxiety as she realized she was now alone with Branch. Had she been stupid in dismissing Cliff? Now she had to talk to Branch for the first time in three years—and she wasn't talking the awkward "where's my dad," "where's Cliff," and "thanks for waking me up" from earlier.

They stood there in uncomfortable silence, so many unspoken feelings in the thick tension between them. They were at least two Trolls' heights combined away from each other, and neither dared to move away, nor take a single step closer.

Finally Poppy met his eyes. "Um, hi."

The words had her inwardly cringing and mentally kicking herself. Of all the stupid things to say, "Um, hi" had to be what she'd said? She was the Troll queen, for goodness' sake! The queen of all things social! Why had she said that?

But Branch didn't seem to think it was stupid, or at least not stupider than anything he would've said. "Hi," he returned, and the two lapsed into silence again.

"Uhh . . . so . . . how have you been, recently?" Poppy asked awkwardly, once again cringing at her sudden social inabilities. She couldn't believe she was desperately trying to remember icebreaker questions! Pathetic.

He looked kind of surprised at the question for a split second, then said, "I've been . . . fine. How about you?"

"Umm . . . good. Unless you're talking about the last hour, because it's been torture."

"I can see why—especially for you. Uh, by the way, you did a good job of dumping Cliff."

Poppy was relieved the conversation was flowing a little more easily. "Do you mean it was a good decision to dump him, or I did a good job while I was dumping him?" In old times, she'd have a hand on her hip, a smirk on her lips, and an eyebrow raised, but right now this was dangerous territory. She had to be extra cautious.

"Can it be both?" She saw the beginnings of a smirk and the way his eyebrow twitched, almost raised, and the way he crossed his arms a little tighter over his chest, but he didn't dare to be anything but cautious, either, on this dangerous territory. This dangerous land that could open up and swallow them whole at any moment.

"Sure. I'll humor you." It was safer than saying what she normally might've, which was that since he wanted it to be, no it couldn't. Then again, she had no idea what normal was anymore.

"Thanks, Princess." Here was a pet name she didn't mind. She didn't mind it because of the way he said it, not like she was a beautiful and angelic figure, but more like she was spoiled and self-centered. And yet it wasn't offensive at all, because she always knew that behind his passive, mocking facade lay the spirit of a poet who thought she was nothing _but_ beautiful and angelic. She loved his arguments as much as she loved his kisses—and she couldn't believe she'd gone a whole three years without either of those.

Now she did allow the smirk onto her face, but she didn't let herself raise an eyebrow or cross her arms or put her hands on her hips or approach him or poke her finger into his chest or lean in and smush their noses together or tangle their breathing or feel his heart rate speed up or connect their lips or thread her fingers up into his hair or part her lips for him or—

 _Stop it._

 _Stop it right now._

 _That's too intimate._

Instead she just said, "Ahh, that's right, _Princess . . ._ well, Princess wants a piggyback ride."

When he didn't respond, she bit her lip.

Had she crossed the line?


	4. Almost a Date

**Hope you like this chapter! I have both Branch and Poppy's POVs in this one because I wasn't sure if it was long enough for an entire chapter. Please read and review (constructive criticism is fine, but no flames). And thank you for your support on my previous chapters and other stories! :)**

* * *

" . . . well, Princess wants a piggyback ride."

Branch nearly choked on his tongue in surprise. Some of those images his answers brought to him came flooding back: the many memories of Poppy sitting on his shoulders as he aimlessly walked around the village while she played with his hair, and the heartbreaking image of her doing the same with Cliff.

So much had surprised him in the last five minutes: Cliff ambushing him and screaming in his face, then trying to attack him; Poppy revealing she'd heard "enough" of the argument; Poppy breaking up with Cliff (breaking up with him, of all things!); Cliff leaving like a punished puppy; Poppy alone with him for the first time in three years; Poppy finally sparking carefully monitored conversation between the two of them . . . but he hadn't expected her to ask him to ride on his shoulders, at least not this soon.

So he was silent at first, but then he saw her bite her lip. He knew that meant she was stressed—how could he not?—and realized what she must be thinking.

He really didn't think it was too soon for that, not when all he really wanted right now was to grab her and kiss that smirk off her face. He was just surprised that _she_ was being forward enough to ask for it.

"Sure, why not?" he said to put her at ease. He turned around and dropped to his knees. He could feel her approaching, then she climbed onto his shoulders. They'd done this hundreds of times, and even if it hadn't happened in three years, it was muscle memory for both of them. She climbed on—he stood up—she crossed her legs over his chest—he grabbed her ankles—she swept back his hair—she rested her forearms on his hairline—and they were off.

"Where are we going?"

"Umm . . ." She pointed to their left. "That way."

"Okay." They walked in silence for a little ways—this silence much more comfortable than before. After a couple of minutes, he felt Poppy's arms dig into his hair and felt her chin rest on his hairline.

"I missed you, Branch," she said quietly, as close to nuzzling into him as she could get.

Branch took a deep breath—or maybe it was more of a relaxed sigh—and let himself believe that she really meant it. "I missed you too, Poppy." He gently squeezed her ankles to let her know just how true it was.

"I told myself I didn't, but I missed you the whole time," she went on, her voice still quiet, her chin still bumping against his forehead as she talked. "I even got mad at my dad every time he brought you up, just because I was afraid I'd start missing you again."

"I tried to never think about you. I tried to convince myself I loved my life and I didn't need anything else," he shared, and as soon as he did, all those pent-up feelings started to ease. Poetry could only absorb some of the pain, after all.

Only Poppy could help with the rest.

"I wouldn't let myself think about how why I was still gray, if I loved my life so much," he continued. "Because if I did, I'd only start thinking about you, and.." He trailed off. She understood.

"Branch . . ." She paused for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was accented with tears, with heartfelt emotion. "Why do we do this to each other?"

"I . . . I don't know," he said, faltering, trying not to cry himself. "I love you."

The first time in three years he'd spoken those words. He began to panic when he heard nothing from her, not even the sound of her sniffles.

Then she spoke again: "Branch, can you put me down?"

"Okay." He grew cautious again, slowly rebuilding his walls. Had he been too forward? He couldn't tell. "Put me down" could be either a good or bad thing, or neutral.

Branch approached a tree trunk and knelt down, allowing her to climb off. She walked over and sat at the base of the trunk, looking up at him expectantly.

He was flooded with relief. _She still wants me with her._

The blue Troll sat against the tree trunk next to her. She looked at him, tears welling in those beautiful magenta eyes of hers. Then she hugged him, tight, and whispered, "I love you too, Branch."

He hugged her back, holding her tight as she was holding him. "Poppy . . ." Her name was spoken just so he could say it, just so he could say it without hurt or shame or that feeling that he'd failed her.

"Branch," she returned, presumably for the same reason. Suddenly she pulled back, enough to look him in the eyes but not far. She cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder, watching his face for a reaction.

He looked her right in the eyes, inviting her to continue.

Slowly she slid her other hand up his arm, constantly glancing up at him like she was worried his reaction would change.

It never did.

She continued when that hand reached his other shoulder, bringing her whole body closer to his so that she could keep her arms around his neck. Automatically, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her even closer.

Poppy's eyes grew half-lidded as her head slowly drew nearer to his. Her pink lips reached for his—unlike they had earlier, which only made it that much better. Branch let his eyelids drop closed and he kissed her like he had that day three years ago, the day when they both agreed it'd be better to end their relationship . . . but it had done neither of them any good.

The young queen pulled back and stared at him. He just stared back at her owlishly, unable to find words for what had just happened.

"Why was that as hard as it was the first time?" she finally said, a little breathily, her eyes still wide.

Branch couldn't help but laugh. "Doesn't have to be hard anymore." He dived back in for a second kiss.

Poppy kissed him back passionately. This hadn't happened in so long, Branch found himself savoring every moment of it.

When they finally pulled back, Branch asked, "Did you, uh, ever do this with Cliff?"

She gave him a really funny look. "You don't want me to answer that."

"No, not the kissing, I mean . . . did you ever ride around on his shoulders and just talk or enjoy each other's company or . . . anything?"

"Oh, pfft, no way!" she said as though the idea was ridiculous, and now Branch was the one giving her a funny look.

"How did you have a relationship, then?" he asked in pure confusion.

"We went on dates! I'm not saying we didn't go on dates," she quickly amended. "I'm just saying, there's no way I'd ever be able to ride on Cliff's shoulders. He's not half as strong as you."

"Yeah, but he gets angry pretty quickly," Branch said, remembering how Cliff had attacked him.

Poppy shook her head. "I'm sorry about that, Branch. I had no idea he was like that, even after three years. I'm so glad Dad didn't let me marry him." She smiled sheepishly, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "'Course, now I'll never be able to look him in the eyes again. Ugh!"

He put his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. She rested her head on his chest. "Branch, if you're my true love . . . you have to be happy," she told him, gently tapping his arm.

Only now did he notice that he still hadn't turned blue. "That's okay. I may not look like it, but I'm perfectly content right now," he said, hugging her slightly closer.

"I am too, but what about not-right-now? I want you to be happy."

"I . . ." She was getting determined. There was no point in arguing anymore, not when he wanted to be happy too.

"I will do _anything_ to make you happy," she said. "Do you want to do something to Cliff?" She paused and an uncomfortable silence filled the air. Branch knew she was thinking that that might be a little premature; she hated hurting people.

"I can't make you do that. Besides, I doubt encouraging my hate for Cliff is gonna help me."

Poppy laughed a little, shaking endearingly in his arms. "Well, um . . . I can kiss you till you turn blue."

"You're out of ideas." It wasn't a question.

She sighed, body slacking against him in defeat. "Yeah, I am."

"Poppy . . . how about something more . . . _sentimental_?"

"Like what?"

He raised an eyebrow at the top of her head. It was seriously taking her this long to figure it out? "Like maybe something that worked before. . ?"

She turned around and looked at him, breaking out of his grasp to give him a confused look. "Before? What are you talking about?"

He was silent.

Suddenly she locked eyes with him. " _Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"_

Branch smiled. "Yeah." He began to sing their song, "True Colors." Poppy joined in for her part soon enough, touching her hand to his and spreading his natural blue color through his body. When they touched, her own fuchsia shades started to glow softly, matching the glow of his colors.

The song was over before either of them knew it, and Poppy connected their lips tenderly the moment they stopped singing. She pulled back and dropped onto his chest again, leaning there, eyes closed, never more serene.

Branch held her in his arms, his grasp firm from behind her. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her strawberry cotton candy scent, just as peaceful as her.

He wasn't sure how much later it was when he felt Poppy's breathing become heavy, but he was suddenly tired, too. He pulled her a little closer, cuddling into her, and gave way to sleep just like she had.

* * *

Sunset.

That was the first thing Poppy noticed when she opened her eyes.

She must've fallen asleep, she thought, but where was she? In her sleep-induced daze, she had no idea why she was in the forest.

So the forest was the second thing she noticed. The third? Someone's arms around her, someone who she was leaning into relaxedly.

 _I must be on a date with Cliff_ , she thought, yawning quietly. He was holding her so protectively, like he would do anything not to see her get hurt. He must've turned into a really good boyfriend recently, because she couldn't remember him ever holding her this lovingly. Only Branch had ever—

 _Oh my holy realization._

 _Branch._

She rubbed her eyes as the events of the day came back to her and carefully turned up to look at him. He was still sleeping, his face the most peaceful she'd ever seen it, yet he was still holding her in his grasp like he would sacrifice anything for her safety. She loved him so much.

She could admit that now.

Poppy hadn't been acquainted with "shyness" until she'd broken up with Branch. It had been nature to, if she liked someone, just go up and kiss him without a second thought.

But then she'd started dating Cliff.

She'd been Cliff's girlfriend. And she loved him. But whenever someone said the name Branch, it was hard to pin down all those feelings, the feelings with such mixed messages. Parts of her said walk up and kiss him; part of her told her she couldn't because he was Branch and she was Poppy and they didn't just swallow their pride in front of one another, and part of her told her she couldn't because she belonged to Cliff.

Now she knew that she'd belonged to him as more of a pet than a partner.

But Branch was different.

Poppy lifted a hand and gently caressed his peaceful, sleeping face. She remembered this. Remembered where each of his glitter freckles was, the way they shined just a little brighter when his spirits were lifted. Remembered the way his ears pointed at their tips, pointed just a little more than most Trolls' ears. Remembered—

Suddenly he stirred and she jumped, jostling his arms around her—which, of course, woke him up. "Poppy?" he asked, eyes flying open and locking with hers in muddled confusion. "What are you doing here?"

She leaned forward and kissed his lips gently. "Give it a minute; you'll remember."

He blinked at her a couple of times, and she swore she could see the cloud lift from his mind right then. He hugged her closer to him and she laughed happily, hugging him back.

They pulled back and Poppy said, "We were asleep for a while. The sun's already setting. What do you want to do now?"

"How tired are you?"

As if on cue, she yawned, completely by accident. "Honestly? Even though I slept for more than half the day, I'm really tired. Tomorrow I'll be better. If you want to stay up, though, I'm sure I can find some sugar to eat somewhere. Or maybe you need some sleep? I can go home if that's the case."

He shook his head. "Poppy, if you sleep for more than half the day and you're still tired, I'm not going to make you get high on sugar to stay up with me. Why would I even want that anyway? You need to get some sleep."

She gave him an expectant look, clearly waiting for him to go on.

"Um, that's it," he said awkwardly, unsure why she was giving him that look.

"Really? You aren't gonna say that _you_ need to get some sleep?"

"Well, I guess maybe I do, but I'm more concerned about you getting the sleep you need. Why?"

"It's just, whenever we split for the night, Cliff would always end the conversation by saying, 'Listen, Poppy, I need to get some sleep.'"

"He wouldn't say anything about you?"

She shook her head.

He drew her into his arms for the thousandth time, but she didn't protest. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry I left you. Cliff is a jerk."

"Will you get mad if I agree with you?"

She smiled. "For once, no. Agree all you like."

"Well then, I agree with you." He kissed her forehead. "I do think you need some rest, though. You've had a tiring day."

Poppy nodded. She wanted to stay here and fall asleep in his arms again, but she couldn't do that to him. No matter what he pretended, it had been a tiring day for him too, and she wasn't going to keep him sitting here, holding her all night.

So she stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "'Night, Branch. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Poppy. I'll see you tomorrow too, probably when you get all your energy back and come to pound on my door at five in the morning."

"You know it!"

He kissed her on the cheek with a groan. "'Night, Poppy."

She turned away to go back to her pod. "'Night, Branch!"

As she walked, all she could think about was how well that had gone. She was so lucky to have been brave enough to break up with Cliff like that, and she was especially lucky that her time with Branch had gone well. They were (un)officially back together!

If she wasn't so tired, she'd be spinning and twirling and yelling it to the world.

Those thoughts melted to different thoughts when she passed her father's pod. She should probably go see him, tell him everything that happened today . . .

But she was too tired.

 _Tomorrow_ , she promised herself. Tomorrow she'd see her dad—tomorrow she'd tell her friends—tomorrow she'd talk with Cliff—and tonight, she would rest.


	5. Hurt

**I'm sorry! The whole story was practically finished and I haven't updated in a week! It took me forever to think of a halfway decent ending, because if this wasn't the last chapter then fluffy nothings would've gone on endlessly. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the last chapter! Please read and review (constructive criticism is fine, but no flames)! Thanks! :)**

* * *

The next day around noon, Branch came to visit Poppy at her pod.

At first, he'd wondered (an understatement; maybe panicked was a better word) if this was too forward, just casually coming to her pod like this, no invitation. But the day before . . . he could still feel her resting there in his arms, her soft snores filling the air and pulling him into a relaxed state as well . . . and right there, at the front of his memory, was Poppy looking him in the eyes for any disapproval as she slowly snaked her arms up to his neck and kissed him.

So no, it wasn't forward.

And if she thought it was, then here was an excuse: he needed to check if she'd gotten the sleep she'd needed yesterday. Still, he was confident he wouldn't need the excuse.

But as he approached her pod . . .

He heard _crying_.

More specifically, he heard _Poppy_ crying.

Branch instantly leaped into her pod. She was in the back, in her bedroom, laying on top of the neat but rumpled covers, curled up and sobbing in front of the open door.

His heart broke to see her like this—and the worst part was, he didn't even know what was she was upset about. He knocked on the door frame. "Poppy, are you okay?"

She looked up at him and started crying harder.

This worried him. Had he done something? He didn't think so, but maybe everything that happened yesterday had been too forward—maybe she'd only just realized it now—

"Br-branch," she cried, curled up again and not looking at him. "C-come over _heeeeeeeeere_!" Her voice broke into a despaired sob on the last word.

Branch was slightly relieved and ran over, plopping down next to her. "Poppy, what happened?"

Poppy latched onto him as soon as he was there, holding him tighter than he'd known she could, nestling into him like a life preserver. " _Braaaaaanch_!" she wailed, soaking his vest in tears.

He held her close, too, determined to provide her with as much comfort as he could. "Please, Poppy, tell me why you're so upset."

" _Cl-cliff was heeeere!_ " she bawled into him.

Of course. He should've known. Cliff had certainly said something to hurt her. But the Poppy he knew had thick skin, even if she could be naive at times - what could the jerk possibly have done to make her like this?  
"And what did Cliff do?" he asked, trying to be as gentle and nurturing as he could.

"He—he—" She let go of him, pulling out of his grasp, and sat up, tears welling in her eyes. Branch could see her biting her lip to hold them back.

The now-blue Troll gasped at the sight of her, his own eyes misting. She had a nasty, purple-blue bruise on her right shoulder, but that wasn't all. She had a ton of the same horrible bruises on her face, especially her cheeks and jawline. And on her left cheek, amidst her glitter freckles, was a huge gash in her pink skin. The survivalist in front of her knew that would leave a scar. Eyes trailing back to the bruise on her shoulder, he noticed several smaller ones all down her arm.

 _Looks like Cliff didn't_ say _anything to hurt her._

"Poppy, I am so, so sorry!" he cried, shocked that Cliff would do this. Yes, he might've been a little suppressing and selfish, with some anger issues, but Branch had never imagined that he'd be this violent, especially not to Poppy. "Cliff did this to you? I'll get revenge, Poppy. Just say the word and he's dead. I promise you—"

"No, no," she said. "D-don't do that. Just—" She fell back down into his grasp. "Stay with me."

He smiled gently. "I'm more than happy to." Holding her close, he connected their lips, her petal-soft ones moving gracefully against his—

"OW!" Poppy yelped loudly, pulling her lips away from his. She kept close, in his arms, but stopped kissing him.

"What hurts?" he said immediately. He wouldn't stand for Poppy being hurt.

"I-I'm sorry, it's just . . . my jawline . . . my face . . . I can't really get too passionate right now . . . I'm sorry . . ." Suddenly her eyes welled up with tears and she buried her face in his vest again.

"No, no, Poppy, I understand. You're hurt and who am I to push you? I want to help you, not make it worse." He rubbed her back as she cried. "Hey, do you still have all those healing tonics and creams I gave you before we broke up?"

"Y-yeah, in the kitchen cabinets," she said, her voice muffled.

"You stay here, okay? I'll go get some and help you." He gently pried her off of him and stood up—

She looked up at him with miserable, pleading eyes. "Don't leave."

"I'll be back in a minute, Poppy, I promise," he told her, even though he hated to see her so sad.

"No, no, no!" she said, voice breaking and crumbling into tears. "Carry me," she begged weakly.

"I . . ." But one glance at her miserable eyes and any irritation or protests died. "Alright." His voice was barely a whisper with that one word before he scooped her into his arms bridal-style. She settled against his chest, tears silently streaming out of her closed eyes, as he walked to the kitchen.

Branch was getting the creams out with his hair when he heard someone walk into Poppy's pod. He whirled around, clutching Poppy tighter, in fear it was Cliff—but relaxed when he saw it was her father. Unless you counted yesterday, he hadn't seen the former king in forever.

"Why, hello, Branch!" he said, seeming much too cheerful for someone whose daughter had just been beaten up by her ex-boyfriend. But then, maybe he didn't know. "Poppy's friends said I needed to come check on her. I'm glad you're here. My plan really worked!" He sighed, frowning. "If only I'd thought of it sooner."

"Well, they were right," Branch said solemnly. "You do need to check on her." Peppy came around the counter, and he continued, "Look what Cliff did to her."

He started to set her upright on her feet, but she clung to him. "No!" she whimpered, using every ounce of strength in her bruised arms to hold on to him.

Branch kept her in his arms. "He completely beat her up, King Peppy. Her shoulder is just one big nasty bruise, and she's got a gash in her face—can you tell? Plus she's got bruises all over her face and right arm."

"Oh, Poppy, my princess, I'm so sorry," Peppy said, his face falling. He leaned over his daughter and kissed her forehead, making her flinch. "Cliff did this to you?"

Poppy began to weep again. "He—he came in and—and—and he said he didn't mean any of that stuff and he tried to kiss me, but I pushed him a-away and he—he got mad and s-st-started hitting me, just my face, then a-a-asked me if I wa-was ready to listen to him and tried to take o-off my dress—he's never done that before—and I s-slapped his hand away, so he slapped my shoulder ha-hard, and then the rest of my arm, and-and then sliced my cheek and s-said it w-was a reminder of what happens when I d-don't listen to him!" She broke into tears, and Branch automatically held her tighter.

"No one deserves that," Peppy sympathized, stroking her hair. "Have you told your friends you've broken up with him?"

"Y-yes!"

Branch grabbed the healing creams off the counter with his hair and said, "I was going to use some healing creams on her. Is that all right?"

"Wonderful. Thank you for taking care of her, my boy," Peppy said. "Oh, and by the way, I thought you two should see this picture that Biggie took yesterday." He held out a picture to them.

It was _them_ , Branch realized—him and Poppy. He was leaning against a tree trunk with his eyes closed, face snuggled into Poppy's hair. The queen was resting in his arms, her eyes closed as well, never looking more content.

Branch instantly blushed. "Biggie took this?"

Peppy nodded. "Yep!"

"How long were we asleep?"

"Hours, I assume—you two were out there for hours. Well, I'll leave you to take care of Poppy in peace." He bent down and kissed the queen's forehead again. "Get better soon, my princess," he said, then left the pod.

Branch grabbed the photo with his hair—surely Poppy would want to see it—and walked back to her bedroom as he held her in his arms. He carefully set her down.

Her eyes shot open and she looked up at him pleadingly again. "Branch," she moaned, begging for him to be next to her with a single word.

He shook his head. "Lie on your back, Poppy—I'm going to help you heal."

"But I want—"

"Poppy, please," he said gently. It would be so much easier for the both of them if she'd comply. "Let me help you."

She swallowed hard. "Okay." Her voice was barely a whisper, but she lay down on her back, spreading her arms out so he could help her.

Branch climbed onto the bed and kneeled next to her. He took a salve and gently spread it over the bruises on her face, save for the one with a big cut over it. Poppy closed her eyes under his touch.

When it was done, he pulled away and her eyes opened. "Mm, I forgot how perfect you were," she murmured, her eyes closing again when she saw why he'd pulled back.

Branch smiled and raised an eyebrow. _Perfect_? He wasn't perfect. He'd also never heard Poppy so willing to admit that he was . . . then again, compared to Cliff . . .

Thinking about the Troll made Branch's brief smile vanish. He started applying a different cream to her bruised arm. When he got to her shoulder, he did as much as he could, but the strap of her dress was in the way of the rest. Working in such silence that he'd checked out, he automatically reached to move it away from her shoulder so he could finish applying the cream.

Her eyes shot open and she shoved his hand away from her shoulder, staring up at him. Her eyes wore betrayal and hurt and then went cold. "I spoke too soon," she said, her tone clipped.

Branch instantly put his hands in the air as though surrendering. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he insisted honestly. "I just needed to treat your bruise. Here, you can do it if you want." He pushed the cream toward her, not wanting to touch even her hand if she was uncomfortable with it.

Poppy's eyes studied his face, clearly trying to decide whether he was being sincere—and then her gaze softened. "Thank you . . ." she said, grabbing the cream and applying it to her own shoulder. "I'm just jumpy after the run-in with Cliff earlier. Sorry."

"Don't apologize; you deserve to be jumpy, after what he did to you. I promise I will never, ever do anything like that, Poppy," he said, reaching for her hand—but then he hesitated. Maybe he shouldn't touch her at all yet?

She nodded weakly, glancing at his hand. "Go on."

He gently lifted her hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. "I'm going to put these back, alright?" He gestured to all the healing supplies from her cabinet.

"Wait! What about my cut?" She lifted her free hand to the wound across her cheek.

Branch glanced at all the creams, salves, and tonics, hesitating. It depended on what she needed. "I think this will work, but it's going to sting. Do you want to do it?"

She gripped his hand harder and shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. "No. You do it, please."

"Okay." He took a small glob of the salve and smeared it over her cut. She winced, pressing her lips together and squeezing his hand even tighter, but didn't protest or stop him.

Branch smeared on more for the rest of the cut, then wiped his hand on a towel from his hair and closed the jar of salve. "I'm done," he told her.

Poppy opened her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, her hold on his hand slackening a little—but she didn't stop holding it.

He squeezed her hand comfortingly. "I'm going to go put these away now, okay?"

Her pleading eyes lingered on him. "Please don't go."

"Well . . . alright," he agreed. He placed all the healing items on her nightstand and laid next to her. "Oh, did you see the picture Biggie took yesterday? Your dad brought it over," he said, dropping her hand to pull her into him.

She snuggled up against him. "No."

With his other hand, he pulled out the picture and held it up so she could see.

" _Awww_ ," she said, however weakly. "That's adorable."

He propped himself up on his elbow and glanced at her, remembering how his initial reaction had been to blush. "I love you, Poppy."

"I love you more."

"No, I—"

"Don't you dare argue," she told him. "I went through _Cliff_ to find you. I love you more."

He watched her for a moment until she seemed satisfied that he wouldn't argue. Then he whispered, "I still love you more."

She started laughing, her voice hoarse from crying but joyful nonetheless. "Whatever you say, Branch. Because Cliff would never argue about this."

Branch set down the picture and lay back against the pillows again, Poppy resting on his chest. With his now-free hand, he stroked her hair gently, running his fingers through her magenta locks. "I'm really, really sorry, Poppy."

"Well . . ." She hesitated, clearly thinking. "You have to look on the bright side. Which is . . . which is that now I'll never break up with you again."

"Me neither. I promise, Poppy."

"I promise, too." Her words were barely a whisper, but they weren't hurt or sad or tear-stained. She just sounded content to be with him.

When her eyes closed and she didn't speak again for another five minutes, Branch thought she might've fallen asleep in his arms again, but then her eyes suddenly popped open, a renewed energy in them despite the bruises and tear stains covering her face. "Oh, hey!" she said zealously, which startled him so badly he jumped.

"Oh my gosh, Poppy," he said, heart racing. "That was _extremely_ uncalled for."

She giggled. "Well, I just remembered! There's a party coming up soon! Like, tomorrow soon. Will you go with me?"

He sighed. "I don't think you're in any shape to be partying right now, Poppy . . ."

"If I'm better?" she quickly added. "C'mon, Branch! Please?" To top it off, she turned her big, sparkly puppy eyes on him.

She knew he couldn't resist that face. "Okay, fine, I'll come with you. You—you'll need some protection after what happened today," he added when he saw her triumphant smirk.

"Thank you," she said, cuddling into him again. She slid a hand up into his hair—"Best boyfriend ever."

* * *

 **Like I said, only a halfway decent ending, but good enough (better than my other ideas, at least). Tell me what you thought of this chapter! :) Thanks for reading!**


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